


Satellite

by JQ (musicmillennia)



Series: Tol Rider Barry 'verse [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Barry Allen Needs a Hug, Dragons, Flying, Gen, Leonard Snart is No Help, Possessive Dragons, Soul Bond, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-31 02:06:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8559154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/JQ
Summary: "Can’t I at least call them?”“Cell reception’s a bitch up here. And my eyes are up here.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Omg I'm??? Updating a series????

For all their famous crimes, Barry only just learns Captain Cold and Golden Glider’s real names when Eobard, on request, takes him to one of them about two hours after their solidified bonding.

Now that their minds are attached to one another, Barry feels like he knows exactly where he’s going, even though he’s never been inside the stronghold. That’s the thing about whatever Eobard’s given them: unless they push thoughts at each other, they don’t have any verbal telepathy, only a subtle open link that’s already affecting them both. Eobard’s calmed considerably, whereas Barry feels their shared lightning spark along his fingertips.

There’s a feral sort of protective instinct that has him carrying the grey egg around too, and although he knows that should all be from Eobard, he’s terrified to find that he can’t tell.

It’s only because of Eobard’s threatening snarls that Barry’s not a mess on the floor.

The corridors are enormous. At the center of each vaulted ceiling is a large chandelier on a sturdy chain—probably also stolen, or bought with stolen money—that shine on a few incomplete murals of draconic battles, some against other dragons, some against humans, but most, to Barry’s surprise, show the dragon’s opponent as other unknown horrific monsters.

Eobard interrupts his musings with a sharp, “You keep stumbling.”

Barry grimaces. “If you hadn’t sliced open my legs—”

“Do you think power transference is a simple process? That bonding only takes a few sweet little touches? You will recover with time,” Eobard adds after a moment, “the rewards greatly outweigh the risks.”

Of course they do. Barry purses his lips.

“Besides, even with your new power, it’s been nine months since you last stood by yourself. It’s understandable that you need time to adjust.”

Barry doesn’t want to even think about how long he’s been here. If he does, his mind will inevitably turn to Joe and Iris, and—

“We’re here.”

‘Here’ being a giant spring deep within the mountain. Its chamber is a makeshift cave. The nailed down floor lights dotted about the shore make the water dance along serrated walls, over countless paintings that were all _definitely_ stolen, all originals from the sixteenth to nineteenth centuries.

There’s a human-sized opening in the wall off to the side, shrouded in darkness, and far above it a large hole fit for a dragon’s head to poke through. That’s when Barry realizes that this isn’t a common room; these are somebody’s quarters.

Just then, a great head rises from the spring. Its teeth are bitter yellow and its mouth drips with gobs of mud and bunched up plants. Its fins pan out from the sides of its head, running all the way down its body, which rises in sections, running along the surface like the sea creatures of old.

The thing must be at least a hundred feet long; how does it fit?

The dragon itself coils into a threatening pose, ridged snout pulling back in a low snarl that sounds like the beginnings of an earthquake.

Petrified by the dragon’s silver frog eyes, Barry almost doesn’t notice the smaller figure emerging from the lake.

It’s Cold, yet it’s a completely different creature. He claws his way to the surface, shoving himself to his feet with inhuman hisses and growls. His skin is no longer pale, but a strange thick grey. Yet that’s not what catches Barry’s eye.

The man has _fins_.

They jut from his arms and legs, complementing his webbed hands. Gills flex along his cheeks and neck, attempting to filter water that’s no longer there. His heaving chest adorns brand new scars, thick ropy things, and one of them forms like a brand between his shoulder and collarbone: two white icicles forming an X inside a sapphire blue circle. A Rider’s Mark.

Cold massages his throat. Once his gills blend back into human skin, he practically sings, “Well hel _lo,_ Barry. I don’t suppose you’ve met my Amphitrite, have you?”

Barry finds himself reaching to touch Eobard’s neck. Their contact tingles with electricity, solid and grounding. (He hates it.)

“Barry, Amphitrite, Amphitrite, Barry. Now that we’ve all been introduced,” Cold slinks over to a chair near the spring, pulled out so he could throw his clothes over it. “To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Eobard’s own curiosity niggles at the back of Barry’s head. It almost feels like his own. (He _hates it_.)

“I have a family in Central City,” Barry says.

“Yes,” Cold replies before he can continue, “we’ve looked into it. Detective Joe West and his daughter Iris, with—and I was _quite_ surprised to find—Henry Allen in Iron Height’s Psych Ward.” He doesn’t sound surprised at all. “Why do you ask? It’s not like you’re ever going to see them again.”

Barry nearly cuts himself with how fast he pulls away from Eobard’s scales.

“No.”

Cold shoots him a sharp glare. “Dragons aren’t _pets_ ,” he says, “even a goodie two-shoes like you has to feel it. The bond changes you, Allen.” Barry winces. “Even if your family wants to see you, do you really think Eobard there’s gonna let you go alone? What will they think when they see a dragon on their doorstep?”

Eobard doesn’t even try to deny it. Barry knows he’ll do just as Cold said. ( _He hates it_.)

Cold, now by all appearances human, grabs his coat and drapes it across his shoulders. “Until you two decide whether you want to stay here or not, you’re gonna be stickin’ around for a while. Better get used to it, kid.”

Barry swallows. “Isn’t there…can’t I at least call them?”

Cold shrugs a shoulder. “Cell reception’s a bitch up here. And my eyes are up _here_.”

Barry starts, flushing red. Eobard’s smirking. “I-I wasn’t—”

“ _Sure_ you weren’t. Name’s Leonard Snart, by the way. Guess you should know it. But feel free to keep callin’ me Cold. I’ve grown attached to the title.”

Snart sounds more disgusting. It’s childish, but that’s why Barry decides on it.

Since he’s getting nowhere on the family front, he changes the subject. Much as he hates to admit it, Snart’s right: he’s stuck here, so he might as well get to know the others, despite the blood on their hands. For now, there’s nothing else he can do.

“I thought your dragon was made of ice.”

Amphitrite dips their head. They look at Snart with animal hunger, purring when Snart accepts their nuzzle.

“Why do you think we come out to play in the winter?” he asks. “Water’s a very _flex_ ible type. Changes with the seasons. I relish in the cold, as you might’ve heard,” Barry can’t help a tiny smile at that. Snart responds in kind. “And mine turns to ice during my _favorite_ season. They can travel as a cold streak on the ground then, perfect for stealth and what have you. You see, _Barry_ , there are other ways for dragons to travel than flying.”

Barry doesn’t know how, but Snart makes everything he says sound like a come-on. He glances away from him, only to find himself straying to Eobard. Eobard, who’s staring right back, still considerably calmer but too reminiscent of how Amphitrite looks at their rider.

Tearing his eyes away, “So what am I supposed to do? I’m not a criminal.”

Snart smirks, prompting an inexplicable rush of anger in Barry. “Oh, we know. Your dragon over there’s gonna be hungry soon. Maybe you can go for a ride.”

He’s looking at Barry like he knows it’s not going to happen. The anger boils.

Barry practically smacks Eobard’s neck. “I’ll need a saddle,” he says.

He doesn’t know if the surprise he feels is at himself or if it’s Eobard’s.

To his annoyance, Snart only smirks wider, like he’s won. “My dear sister’s dragon will need her lunch as well. You’ll need to get to know them too.”

Amphitrite snarls, fins bristling.

Snart’s expression softens into near reverence. “And mine would _love_ to come, of course.”

He grunts as their talons tear off his coat and sink into his back. Barry stumbles back a step, though part of him doesn’t seem to have a problem— _Eobard_.

Yet Snart shares the dragon’s perspective. He merely hums and says, “I’d _never_ forget about you.”

He’s arched slightly under the force of his dragon. Barry swallows.

There’s a sickening slide of flesh and sputtering of blood. Snart sucks in a deep breath through his nose.

“Go find my sister,” he says, as Amphitrite licks his wounds clean, “she should be in the armory.”

Barry gapes, “But—you’re not—”

But Snart only smirks again and replies, “Do you see that scar under their eye?”

As if proud of it, Amphitrite turns their head slightly to show it: a grotesque batch of chipped scales that’s only visible up close.

“That’s what happened when they went hunting without me,” Snart explains. “Dragons show their affection in blood, Barry. Another thing you’ll just have to get used to.”

“Isn’t that—”

Suddenly, Snart’s face is twisting into a feral growl. “ _No_ ,” he snaps, “it’s not.”

Amphitrite’s expression mirrors their rider’s. Eobard takes a step forward, snarling back.

Quieter, but no less angry, Snart says, “I know the difference, kid. I suggest you go find my sister.”

Barry doesn’t need to be told twice.

(Eobard does. Barry has to tug at him through their bond. _He hates it_.)

(~*~)

Eobard’s done a lot of exploring while Barry was out. He knows exactly where the armory is and how to get there.

On the way, they pass other chambers obviously meant for personal use. One of them has a skylight, since most of the ground is smoking with simmering craters; another looks like a kid’s room, full of toys and brightly colored boxes, which appalls Barry with the implications; the only other chamber with anything in it is mostly bare, save for a few odds and ends and a constant swirling breeze, like a ghost lives in it.

Eobard leads him out to the courtyard and across to the other archway. The armory is the first bulking room to the left.

It’s full of benches for humans and lined with weapons and armor of all kinds, most of which Barry’s never seen anywhere. There are also racks for equipment that obviously belong to dragons: large pieces of armor for many types of heads and bodies, shiny parts that look like talons. One of them, a headpiece, seems to follow Barry as he walks.

“That’s my darling King’s,” a voice simpers. Barry jolts.

There’s Snart’s sister straddling a bench, just finishing putting her curious gun back together.

“King is her name,” she adds, “we never were properly introduced, were we cutie?”

She sweeps to her feet, holstering her gun in one fluid motion. Holding out her hand, “I’m Lisa. And you’ve already met Lenny—I can smell him on you,” she explains to Barry’s wide eyes, “you’ll become more aware of your senses too. So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

If Barry didn’t already know they were related, he’d see the resemblance between the Snart siblings then and there. His thumbs starts stroking the grey egg in a nervous tick.

Eobard, seeing this, finally speaks up. “Amphitrite and I are going hunting. It’ll be Barry’s first flight. Would you and King like to join us?”

Lisa’s eyes light up with manic excitement. She says, “Your dragon insisted on getting measured as soon as he reached carrying size. Come on back.”

Barry scowls at Eobard. The dragon’s upper mouth grins.

 

Eobard’s saddle even has a pouch securely attached at the shoulder for their—for the— _for their egg_ , ‘it’s ours, Barry.’

Barry massages his aching temple as the sun peeks out from behind the clouds to bathe the courtyard in golden autumn light. While he had to assist in putting the thick blanket underneath, Eobard buckled the saddle on himself, easy enough for his dexterous talons. Its straps cross over his chest, high enough so as not to irritate his wing joints, with a small titanium alloy covering to withstand his neck spikes. The back of it dips under his belly, which he takes care of by standing on his hindlegs and bending down to secure.

When he’s finished, Eobard shakes himself out and says, “I’ll put the egg on first.”

He promptly offers his paw. Barry swallows and hands over th—their, fine, _their egg_. Eobard hums in affection as he stores it safely in his pouch.

“Now you.”

At least Barry knows Eobard’s not out to kill him. The dragon’s scales grate against his clothes and skin, but fortunately it’s only a mild discomfort. Soon enough, Barry’s foot meets the stirrup.

Eobard picks up another bundle of straps. He wraps it intricately around his neck in an overlapping diagonal pattern before offering the end to Barry and saying, “Tie that around the saddle horn.”

Barry tries not to touch the talons as he takes it. Curiosity winning out, he asks, “What’s this for?”

“In case you fall,” Eobard says, “which you won’t; I’m not a clumsy flyer. But as a precaution, should you fall, you hang on to those.”

Barry blinks. “…oh.”

The straps are loose enough to allow comfortable flexibility, as Eobard demonstrates by turning to glare at Barry.

“You are safe with me,” he snarls, baring his top teeth, because _that’s_ going to completely reassure Barry. Sensing the foreboding, Eobard takes a deep breath. “I told you that I wouldn’t let you leave me. I like to think that falling from my saddle counts.”

Barry can’t help snorting at his dry tone.

“Aw, Lenny look. They’re bonding!”

Man and dragon turn to see King stalking into the courtyard, followed by a slithering Amphitrite. Snart, to Barry’s amazement, doesn’t have a saddle, but two straps that look flimsy at best strapped around Amphitrite’s biggest canines.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, Barry,” he smirks, wrapping the reins around his hands in practiced movements, “I haven’t broken my arms with these in years.”

Barry puts on his best glare. “I wasn’t worried about you, Snart.”

“Ditched my title then? How cold of you.”

Barry turns away to hide his smile. His puns are terrible and he’s a criminal. There’s no reason to laugh here.

“Shall I take the lead?” Lisa says.

“By all means, sis,” Snart fondly replies. Barry feels a painful longing for Joe and Iris.

He forces himself to focus on something else, anything else, instead. He settles on looking at Amphitrite.

“How are they gonna follow?” Barry asks.

Amphitrite answers by snapping out two long wings. They were thin enough to blend almost perfectly with their fins. They flutter slightly in the breeze, attached to their body by thin bone and muscle, cerulean jewels in the daylight.

Awestruck, Barry says, “But you said they couldn’t fly.”

“I said there are other ways for a dragon to travel,” Snart says, “I never said _mine_ couldn’t fly.”

Amphitrite growls. The pull of their mouth looks far too similar to their rider’s smirk.

“Shall we, boys?” Lisa calls. Without waiting for an answer, King takes to the sky in one neat bound.

Amphitrite readily follows, slithering over the railing. Snart bends his knees and nothing else.

The second Eobard tells Barry that he’ll be fine, Amphitrite soars to the sky, tail coiling in the air to keep from falling limp. They can’t hover like King, so they swirl in wide arcs around him, like they’re swimming in the air.

“Come on, Barry!” Snart yells, “Don’t tell us you’re getting cold feet?”

“If he makes one more pun,” Barry murmurs, “I’m gonna—”

Eobard crouches, asking, “You’re going to what? Send him a strongly-worded letter?”

Lightning sings through both of them, morphing Barry’s reply into a gasp. His vision tints yellow and sharpens, every detail of the forest beyond fixing itself until Barry can see every leaf vein and wing flap of birds. It all moves as if through molasses—the Snarts and their dragons do too.

Barry laughs in amazement. “What’s going on?”

“I told you,” Eobard says, humming with pride, “my speed is your speed. Now let’s be off. Three.”

“Wait, maybe I should get used to this first!”

“Two.”

“Eobard, come on—”

“ _One_.”

In twin bursts of red and yellow lightning, they’re tearing past the sluggish dragons to take the forest by storm.

Barry should’ve brought goggles. Or maybe pinned on a hat. He doesn’t need either, but they would’ve made him feel better. More human. Because what he’s feeling as Eobard slices through both air and animals? _Not human_.

He doesn’t know whether it’s the lightning or what, but it’s like Eobard’s talons are _his_ talons. The blood and meat gushes between his fingers, splatter on his tongue, and—and it feels _incredible_. Smells incredible. Tastes incredible. Looks like a work of art with Eobard’s meticulous arching scoops. He could do this all day.

Was this how the dragon felt when he was slicing Barry open?

‘That was a necessity. I enjoyed that about as much as you probably enjoyed receiving it.’

There’s sincerity there. Barry can sense it—can sense _everything_ —

And they’re hovering between the siblings, three bucks in both front paws. Barry wipes some of the blood from his face. Hey, a practical reason for the goggles?

Lisa’s the first to laugh. She puts her whole body into it. Snart, on the other hand, simply quirks his mouth and nods before he and Amphitrite dive for the trees.

Lisa, still laughing, waves her hand and calls, “I guess that leaves out flight school, huh?”

Barry—Eobard?—flushes with pride. (Yeah, Eobard. Has to be Eobard.)

After landing, Barry shakes out his legs. Stray lightning still crackles along them, leaving him jumping a bit in place.

“Run,” Eobard tells him.

“Huh? Why?”

The withering grimace Barry gets for that explains more than the logical conclusion he comes to afterwards.

“Right,” he mutters, “restless legs, bunch of lightning, run. Got it. Uh—but where?”

Eobard looks at the cavernous tunnels. “Ah yes. Where could you possibly run? After all, this stronghold only goes to the heart of the mountains.”

“Ha-ha.”

After Barry breaks his fingers stopping himself from crashing into a wall, Eobard swallows another mouthful of animal guts and says, “Oh, also, you should be careful when you test your powers for the first time. It can be disorienting on human legs.”

‘ _Fuck_ you.’

“Now, now, Mr. Allen. I’m the one who will be resetting your fingers. Some etiquette wouldn’t be remiss.”

‘How are you gonna—’

 

Snart and Lisa dismount to a disgruntled Barry propping his bound fingers on top of his gray egg and a satisfied Eobard licking his chops.

“We heard a scream,” Lisa says. She’s grinning. “Something interesting happen?”

“No,” Barry says.

Eobard smirks, “Barry ran into a wall.”

“Shut _up_.”

Snart and his sister glance at each other.

“So you can,” Snart says.

Barry tilts his head. “Can what?”

“Hear what Eobard says.”

“Wh—you guys can’t?”

Lisa puts a hand over her heart. “Oh, honey. We can’t even understand our own dragons.”

Snart brushes past all of them. “Looks like you got a deep bond, Barry. Don’t waste it.”

Lisa stage-whispers, “That means he’s jealous.”

Barry makes stuttering noises as she and King strut away.

Eobard says nothing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Barry asks.

“That I know how to sign in multiple languages? I was saving that for later. Wonderful party trick.”

“You sign to them?” Barry shakes his head. “Never mind. You didn’t answer my question. There’s no reason—”

“What are you feeling right now, Barry?”

“What’s that have to do with—”

Barry’s mouth clamps shut as Eobard’s ghostly eyes round on him.

“Moments ago you were leaning on me,” the dragon snarls, “now look at you.”

Barry starts, almost uncomfortably aware of his hunched posture. “I was just—”

“Afraid. You’re _afraid_. Granted, it was my mistake: I didn’t realize I hadn’t signed to the Snarts as I spoke. But that is why.”

Barry gulps. Eobard’s right, of course. He’s terrified. The blood from earlier is still staining his clothes and face, and he hadn’t even noticed it until the words _deep bond_ registered in his head. Lisa said the bond changes you. It’s already changing him, and if it’s _deep_ , then when is Barry going to look in the mirror and not recognize himself? What if he doesn’t even remember Joe, or Iris, or his apartment—

“It doesn’t work like that.”

Eobard is no longer looking at him, but at Central in the distance.

“The bond changes you physically, yes. You’ll become hyperaware of your surroundings, and your instincts will emerge. You may have other traits besides your powers that you share with me besides. But in the end, you are human. All those myths and rumors have blindsided you. Barry, think: have I murdered anyone?”

Barry almost wants to say, ‘Besides Bambi?’

To which Eobard scoffs. “Because humans don’t feast on meat every day.” And…okay, point. “And while we were hunting, did _you_ want to murder anyone?”

“No!” Barry snaps.

“Of course not. I don’t want to kill any humans, Barry. I have no reason to, for one, and you would never consent to it.”

“I don’t remember ever saying ‘yes’ to bonding with you.”

Eobard pinches the space between his eyes. “How many times must I tell you that _you_ claimed _me_?”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“Regardless, you did! You were already hiding in the bushes, Barry. I’ve seen the memory. Your father wouldn’t have seen you regardless. Despite your accusations beforehand, you chose to hide behind us.”

“I was eleven years old and my dad _ate my mother’s brains_!”

“And so you called for help. I was that help, and I would give it again. Barry, you made that decision. I’m not blaming you for it, I’m only telling you that you did. The circumstances were less than adequate, but it happened and now we both have to live with it.”

The sun melts through the clouds. It’s such a beautiful day. Iris would be dragging him out of the house.

“We are one, you and I. That isn’t going to change. Even after we die, we’ll leave our Marks on each other.”

They’d pester Joe on his lunch break. Singh would pretend to have a fit, when really he’s just as eager to steal one of the coffees Iris brings from Jitters.

“Why do you think I’m even talking like _this_?”

Barry blinks. “Like what?”

Eobard huffs. He draws himself up and recites: “It is my great honor to announce the opening of STAR Labs—”

“ _Dr. Wells_?!”

“Obviously not,” Eobard replies, but in the voice of _Dr. Harrison Wells_ , Barry’s _idol_ , how did he not notice—“The shock, I would think. But yes, I’ve heard his voice and your praises so many times that I adapted accordingly. I’m not sure what my original voice would sound like, only that I had one before. I thought perhaps you would respond better.”

Oh…oh.

Barry hangs his head.

After a moment of heavy quiet, he murmurs, “Can you blame me for being scared?”

Eobard sighs. “Because of our bond, I can’t help understanding why. Although I think it’s irrational—” Barry scoffs, “—I see your reasoning.”

“It’s just…I mean…”

“Ask Miss Snart about calling your family.”

Barry blinks. “What?”

Eobard carefully takes out their egg and hands it to him. “Ask her.”

Barry hugs the sphere close. He looks at Central City on the horizon.

“In a minute,” he murmurs. ‘I want to look at home.’

Eobard doesn’t reply.

 

Lisa lounges with King in a cavern heaped with gold. If there are other entrances or pathways in the chamber, Barry can’t see them over the mountainous hoard.

“Barry!” she says, “What do you think? Magnificent, isn’t it?”

She spreads her arms, indicating the small mountain her dragon is rolling on.

“Yeah,” Barry says, thrown slightly off-kilter at the sight, “awesome.”

“I knew you’d like it. No matter what the dragon, there’s always something about treasure.”

Barry traces his thumb over one of the neat squares on their egg. “I was just wondering…Eobard said I should ask you about calling my family?”

Eobard’s tension spikes. He doesn’t want Barry to ask despite what he said.

Lisa rolls into a sitting position. Playing idly with a thick gold chain around her neck, she says, “Let me guess: my brother said something about cell reception?”

Barry’s heart leaps to his throat. “Yeah.”

“But nothing else? Like, say, satellite phones?”

 _Oh_. Oh, Barry’s such an idiot.

“Tip about talking with my brother, Barry: pay close attention to his word choice.”

Barry deflates, hugging their egg like a child with a teddy bear. “Why didn’t he tell me?” glaring at Eobard, “Why didn’t _you_ tell me?”

Eobard sits on his haunches. “The same reason Leonard didn’t tell you.” When he speaks, his dexterous talons sign with him, just as he said.

Lisa says, “Lenny probably wanted you to think you had no other options to push you closer to spending time with your dragon. He’s a jerk that way.” She sounds fond despite Barry’s growing anger.

“Do you have a satellite phone?” Barry asks.

She grins, all teeth. “What would you give me if I did?”

“What do you want?”

Eobard presses for caution, but Barry’s done with that. He wants to talk to his family, damn it.

Lisa slides to the ground. Twirling a bracelet on her finger, she says, “One call, you go on a flight with Eobard. Two calls, you do that _and_ get fitted for riding clothes. You’ll need them anyway. More than that, why, you’ll need Eobard’s Mark.”

Eobard hums his approval. Barry hates them both.

“Two,” he bites out, “I need two.”

Lisa chuckles. “Two it is. Wait here.”

She walks to King’s tail. Her dragon scoops her up in one fluid motion, tossing her up at the wall directly next to her pile. Lisa latches onto a ledge Barry hadn’t realized was there until she’s hoisting herself onto it and rummaging around. King lets her ride her head down.

“Couldn’t you ‘ve just used her head both ways?” Barry asks.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Lisa asks. She hands him a thick black phone.

“Thanks,” Barry says. Eobard signs the same to Lisa.

“There’s a room just off the armory,” Lisa replies, “human-sized. When you’re done, I’ll be waiting for you there.” She winks. “Don’t take too long.”

 

Eobard stays outside of the chamber Barry woke up in, which is apparently theirs. He takes their egg too, giving Barry the best illusion of privacy he can offer when they’re in each other’s heads.

After a brief internal debate, Barry decides to call Joe first. If anything, he can go by seniority, and Joe’s his dad.

“Detective West.”

The voice that answers is ragged, maybe even hungover. Barry’s heart plummets.

“Joe?”

There’s a loud _bang_ on the other side. “Barry?!”

Voices. Many other voices. But Barry’s too busy focusing on the one that matters. He collapses on his new bed, already getting choked up.

“Hey,” he croaks.

“Oh thank God, oh thank God, _Barry_ ,” Joe says, close to tears himself, “we thought you were—”

“I know,” Barry says, remembering how much Eobard had cut him, how much blood spilled. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Barry, where are you? What happened?”

“One of the dragon eggs hatched, Joe.”

Not even the cacophony of the erupted station on the other line breaks the sudden silence.

“Um…” Barry wipes his eyes, “I-I have a dragon now. And he’s…I can’t leave. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I just—”

“Barry,” Joe murmurs, “we’ll figure it out. Just come home.”

“I already told you, I can’t. He’ll follow me. The bond—it’s really deep. Even if I could physically separate me from him, it wouldn’t do any good. I just called to tell you that I’m alive, and that I’m okay.”

“Barry Allen,” Joe says, and Barry could laugh at his Dad Voice, he misses him _so much_ —“you get your ass back home right now. Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it. That’s what families do.”

“The bond’s already affecting me,” Barry murmurs. “Dragons show their affection in blood, Joe. I can’t—I can’t do that to you and Iris.”

Eobard snarls through their link, unable to keep silent anymore, ‘It’s not a _disease_.’

“To them it is!” Barry snaps, “And for the record, it feels like one!”

Eobard jams his head through the doorway. “What did I say about being blindsided by rumor and speculation?”

Barry _snarls_.

The hitch in Joe’s breathing bursts his yellowing vision with pale horror.

“Joe…” Barry whispers. Then he sighs. “I told you.”

“Oh, Barry,” Joe murmurs. “If I could spare you from this—”

“It’s not your fault. None of it is, okay? Even if I didn’t mean to, I did this. I’ll try to call when I can, alright?”

“Barry, _please_ —”

Barry closes his eyes. “I love you, Joe.”

“…I love you too, son.”

Barry hangs up before a real sob escapes. He dials Iris with shaking fingers.

Thankfully, she starts crying too. But she makes the same pleas as Joe. They’ll deal with it, they’re family, if Barry would just come home…

“There’s a coffee that’s been waiting nine months for you,” she says.

Barry forces himself to laugh. “Gross.”

“You know what I mean!” Iris lets out a shaky sigh. “We miss you so much.”

“I miss you too.”

“…can’t you at least visit?”

Barry stares at his shoes. “No. It wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“Can’t you let us decide? You’re family, Barry.”

“And I have a _dragon_ , Iris, one that won’t leave me alone. It just. It wouldn’t be good.”

“Then I’ll just find a way to come to you.”

“ _No_ , Iris, you can’t—”

“Then don’t shut us out like you don’t have a choice! You _always_ have a choice!”

Barry casts a furtive glance at the doorway, even though he knows it won’t do any good even if Eobard’s looking away.

“Just…give me some time, alright?” A sharp jab at his temple (unbidden, _don’tleavecan’tleave,_ desperate) hits him by surprise.

“What’s wrong?” Iris demands.

Barry huffs. “My dragon doesn’t like that idea.”

“Well tough!”

Barry can’t help but smile. Even when faced with a dragon, Iris doesn’t back down. “I need to get used to things. I was…kinda in a coma for nine months.”

“You… _what_?”

“Miss Snart is waiting,” Eobard says tightly.

“Look, Iris,” Barry says, “I love you so much. And I am so sorry.”

“Barry, don’t you _dare_ —”

“But I can’t leave.”

“You just said—”

“I know, but…look, when you said there’s always a choice, I made mine. I didn’t intend for any of this to happen, but it did, and I can’t go back from it. And I’m _sorry_. I’ll call when I can.”

“Barry!”

Barry swallows. “Goodbye, Iris.”

“ _Barry_ —!”

Silence. Barry wants to choke on it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
